I have many brothers and sisters. My brothers are white and my sisters are black. I have many cousins, aunts, and uncles. My cousins are yellow, my aunts are brown, and my uncles are red. I have many mothers and fathers. My mothers are caramel and my fathers are orange. This is my family. We may not share the same blood, but we share the same air that we breathe! We may not go to the same church, but we are all created by the same God. You are my brother. You are my sister. You are my cousin. You are my uncle. You are my aunt. You are my mother. You are my father. We live by the same air. The children of one God.

Quiver like the string in the tight-stretched bow! And then let go! Pierce the bull’s eye! Quiver! Quiver! Shake and quiver! For the power within you is great! And then fly!

Imprint. Emerge. Sculpt your face in the winds! You human of many colours! Sculpt your image! Carve it into the air for eternity’s heritage! You human who is not bound and bridled by one borderline! You human who is not traced in by lines drawn onto the map!

I eat the countries’ borders drawn neatly on the map! I pick them up and they slither together as a thing of no form! I bury the limits of man into the sands to watch them slowly die.

You man of many colors! Arise! Unfold your wings! The wings of the Phoenix! And burn your name into the skies of before, of here, and of after and evermore! Burn your name and may it be burned into the air in many colours! And may your colours be your legacy for the coloured eyes of mankind to see! And may God our creator look at you and see – a beautiful flight of fiery dancing wings aflame etching the skies! And may God feel this heat. The God of eyes that have no colour! May your colours burn and He feel the warmth against His face!

“Having a son is a commitment. But it’s not one that I figure out, or reason with, or rationalize about. It is an instant commitment. A commitment which is made with every piece of skin on my body. My blood, my flesh, my skin— it all runs after my son and takes ahold of him— always. When I look at him, when I stand beside him, when I am with him— there is no difference I feel between him and I, except for the fact that I love him more than myself and that he is more amazing. There are no lines. There is no pretension. There are no differences, there are no separations and there is nothing to be distinguished. We are us. And that’s just the way that it is. We are us.”

“That is powerful. Very powerful. I can feel it.”

“Yes it is.”

“Is this the most powerful thing? To have a son?”

“I compare it to nothing. So I make no comparisons. We are us. This is ours. Ours is mine. Mine is his. We are what we are, and there is nothing to compare, there are no comparisons!”

“This sounds significant!”

“This is significant! This is defiant. This is almost rebellious. It is. And it is on the verge of so many other wonderful things; like an overwhelming tenacity, a complete veracity. To have a son is something which does not fall into a level of anything else which exists. Because there are no levels. It is simply what it is. And this simple matter cannot in a million years be replaced by anything or anyone else.”

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THE DAILY BELL

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ON GOODREADS

"I am a flawed person. A brook with many stones, a clear blue sky with many blackbirds. I have many shortcomings. A rainbow that’s not long enough, a starry night with clouds. But I can only be thankful to the God who loves me just this way, and I can only be grateful to the people in my life who accept the clear blue sky with many blackbirds and who are patient with the rainbow that isn’t long enough. And because of this, I am taught love, because of this I love my God, and I love these people."— C. JoyBell C.

DISCLAIMER

This blog is not an online diary. Anything reflected through my writings here, do not necessarily mirror my present emotional, mental, or physical state, unless directly stated. Furthermore, any resemblances to you or to anyone you know, is purely coincidental and is not a result of me creating any "blind items" about you or your loved ones and friends. Moreover, your reading of my writings does not constitute a marriage, personal relationship, or personal friendship, between us.